


It Had To Be You

by katniss_everqueer



Series: Newmann song fics [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: A couple of side OCs but they're not that important, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Confessions, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Out of Canon, Sort Of, Teachers AU, not a super slow burn but, there's no kaiju here guys I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katniss_everqueer/pseuds/katniss_everqueer
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb has been silently crushing on the biology teacher for four years now. Newton Geiszler has been silently crushing on the math teacher for three years now. The rest of the school has been forced to watch the entire time.





	It Had To Be You

**Author's Note:**

> Song fic for "It Had To Be You" by Motion City Soundtrack.
> 
> Newton “What a disaster it would be if you discovered that I care a little too much friends but not enough to share” Geiszler
> 
> Hermann "I felt like a fool for thinking we were completely wrong” Gottlieb

The hints were small, at first, and completely ignorable, considering that it was coming from their colleagues.

Mako Mori, the school’s physical education teacher, had invited Hermann and a few other teachers from the high school to come out for drinks. Mysteriously, all but himself and the other had cancelled by the time 5 o’clock rolled around. Even more mysteriously, Mako hadn’t deigned it necessary to tell either of them until well after the agreed upon meeting time.

They had spent an awkward 15 minutes joking about having some decent manners, in the form of actually showing up, but he had to say that after that, he had actually enjoyed himself. They didn’t stay as long as they would have if there were more people there, but then, they stayed longer than he would have initially thought they would have- certainly longer than he would have if he had known ahead of time that it would just be the two of them.

A few weeks later, Raleigh Becket, the shop teacher, had been in the middle of his lunch break, and they’d been talking about the possibility of an engineering class being taught next school year for the seniors, when the other had walked in. Raleigh decided at that point that he needed to use the bathroom, but why he needed to bring the rest of his lunch with him as he left was not a question which Hermann wanted answered.

Instead, when the other questioned him about the topic, he had re-launched into an impassioned and impressively uninterrupted sales pitch about an engineering class at the school, how they could further implement STEM education at their school, create a more competitive educational environment (which, by the way, would also absolutely increase their fundraising), and, above all, give students who were already interested in engineering and maybe struggling in other classes an alternative to a science or math class that they might otherwise fail out of, which was, to say, a disastrous mistake in their senior year. He had been well into the discussion with Becket by the time he had decided to take his lunch to the bathroom (apparently), so he had begun from the beginning, and made it a full 10 minutes before realizing he hadn’t been interrupted once. His fear, then, was that he was boring the other to tears, but instead, he looked captivated, completely enraptured by the appeal, like Hermann wasn’t so much talking about a proposal for a new class at the high school but was perhaps revealing the secrets to life, the universe, and everything, right there in a high school teacher’s lounge during a lunch period.

The attention discomforted him, and he stumbled over the ending of his impassioned speech, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

 

* * *

 

The next hints were not as small, but still ignorable, considering that it was coming from their students.

The thing about high school students, he knew from 5 years of teaching of them, was that they thrived on drama. He didn’t blame them- when you were so many years young and had a limited well of life experience to draw from, the smallest things seemed like the end of the world. Similarly, the smallest things seemed like the best thing that would ever happen to you.

He missed some of those days, but not all of them.

Chuck Hansen, a rowdy but kind-hearted boy who had been held behind for his class the year before, had raised his hand. “Can we have class outside today? Mr. Geiszler’s biology class is sitting out in the courtyard and I think it would be nice to enjoy the weather while we learned.”

He almost gave in to that request, but only because it was a rare warm day in March and the sun was drying out the wet spots left over from three straight weeks of rain, and it felt like they hadn’t seen the sun in _months_ , and it was already difficult enough to keep the students focused on formulas and equations when a warm breeze was drifting through the windows that he had thrown open (as far as they could go, against the wishes of the principal, who knew that the warmth wouldn’t last and opening the windows would just make it more expensive next week to heat the building back up).

But he knew that taking them outside would throw any semblance of order out the literal window, instead of out of the metaphorical window, so he firmly said no and continued the lesson.

They tried again- though of course, at that time, he had no idea that they were trying anything, let alone what they were trying for- when he had hunted down the last supplies closet with an unbroken box of chalk in it. He had just pulled the container out from a non-descript cardboard box when he heard the door opening and closing behind him. He straightened up and turned to- Mr. Geiszler. Said biology teacher and the person he most considered the bane of his existence.

It wasn’t that Newton Geiszler was a bad teacher. Quite the opposite, in fact, in that he had such an apparent and unabashed love for his subject matter that even the worse science students enjoyed his class, and he’d rarely, in the 4 years that he’d been teaching there, had a student fail a semester, much less fail a class. No, if anything, Hermann Gottlieb would readily admit that Newt was one of the best teachers this school had, and if his passion for biology had anything to say for it, could have been one of the best teachers the school had ever seen.

Instead, Hermann Gottlieb considered Newton Geiszler the bane of his existence because he was just so… _frustrating_. Frustratingly loud, frustratingly distasteful, frustratingly…. _physical_. Hermann wasn’t sure he’d ever been in a conversation that the other was involved in where his hands hadn’t been moving a mile a minute, just as fast as his mouth. He was loud and brash and quite honestly, Hermann didn’t think it was appropriate for a teacher to have the number of tattoos that he had, nor for him to wear them so apparently. They were all on his arms, after all, so how hard could it have been to keep his sleeves down instead of buttoned up so that no one had to see them?

Yes, Newt Geiszler was a good teacher, but he was so _wrong_ , in so many ways, as far as Hermann was concerned.

Wrong for Hermann, certainly, which was why, yes, okay, the budding crush he’d been stamping down in his chest for four long years now was never going to actually go anywhere, so he needed to stop holding on to the hope that it would, in fact, go somewhere.

“Dude! What’s up? One of my kids just sent me to grab them an extra textbook. Oh, here’s a new one I haven’t heard yet- their dog ripped a few pages out, and then dropped them in the toilet. I’ll admit the creativity in this one is currently unmatched, I just wish that my textbooks weren’t the ones paying the price for it, you know?”

Hermann raised an eyebrow at him as he grabbed his cane in the hand that didn’t have chalk in it. Chalk and his cane- the only two necessities to life, as far as he was concerned.

“So? What’s up? What brings you to storage closet 2B?”

Hermann held up the box of chalk, so clean that it wasn’t even opened yet.

Newt grinned.

“As good as gold, isn’t it? I’m glad you’re the one that found it, dude, I’m sure you’ll take good care of it.”

Hermann hummed. “Yes, well. It’s easy to take care of your supplies when you know you have to pay out of pocket for new ones. And when you have them well-organized and safely tucked away in your desk in between classes.” He gave the other a pointed look at this, which was received with a hand clutching his heart.

“Ouch! Hurtful! But totally fair. Although at least this time it’s not my fault. I’m just doing what’s best for my students, can you blame me for that?”

He supposed not, but he certainly wouldn’t be saying as much. He went for the door, pushing down on the handle.

Which didn’t budge.

He frowned and jiggled the handle again. Not only did the handle hardly move, it felt like something was holding it in place. At least if the door was locked, he could wiggle the handle up to unlock it. It just…wasn’t moving.

At all.

He huffed and tapped his cane loudly on the floor. “Did you just lock us in, Mr. Geiszler?” Newt swiveled around, textbook in hand.

“What? No, of course not, dude. Why would I lock myself in a closet?” He tucked the book under an arm and tried for himself. He jiggled it down, then tried wiggling it up, exactly as Hermann had, as if he had been lying, as if he wouldn’t know how to unlock one of these doors from the inside. Newt cursed.

“Are you serious? I’m in the middle of a class right now, I can’t be locked in a closet. Why won’t the handle move?” He gave it another frustrated wiggle, then huffed.

“Can you text Pentecost and have him get a janitor to come get us out?”

Hermann pulled his phone out and shot off a quick text to the principal. While he was sure the man had better things to do during the day than receive texts from one of his employees, he thought that maybe two teachers being locked inside a closet during a class period constituted some sort of emergency. He sighed and slumped next to the door, but his phone buzzed not too long after.

“Pentecost says it’ll take a few minutes to get someone here. Apparently, someone...retched in the cafeteria and they’re handling that.” Newt wrinkled up his nose, and Hermann only thought that it was cute for two seconds.

“Yes, well. Luckily I’m not the one who has a class to get back to.”

Newton just shrugged. “The kids know better than to collapse into total anarchy, hopefully. Actually, I’d be impressed if they managed to pull that off in just a few minutes.” He grinned. “Might be an interesting assignment, see what would happen in a modern Lord of the Flies scenario. Just, you know, minus the total isolation and subtle commentary on the savageries of British school boys.”

Hermann gave him an incredulous look, but he just laughed it off. “Joking, dude! It was a joke! ....obviously the commentary wasn’t _that_ subtle.”

When Pentecost opened the door no less than five minutes later, they were both seated on the floor, on opposite sides of the small, cramped closet. Newt stood up first then offered a hand to help Hermann up, which he decidedly ignored as he pulled himself up with a grunt and a few expletives- much to his chagrin, as the door swung wider to reveal half of Mr. Geiszler’s class and a few other students leaning in to get a glance at the two grown men who had managed to lock themselves in a closet.

“Hey! Get back in that classroom!” The kids giggled at Geiszler’s demand, but maybe that was because he was less angry and more bewildered as to why half of his class had not only known where he was, but was waiting out in the hallway for him.

Pentecost was giving the both of them a less-than-amused look, arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot. “If you deign it necessary to waste both mine and Mr. Hebbins’ time again, make sure you’re actually locked in, otherwise I won’t be answering your messages a third time.”

Both Hermann and Newt gave him a look that clearly said they had no idea what he meant.

“Your students, Geiszler, seemed to think it would be funny to hold the door closed and jam the handle. Perhaps you’d do better to discipline them away from this type of behavior in the future.”

Newt turned an angry, disapproving look to his students, but the last of them were scuttling back into the classroom. He swiveled back to the principal. “I can’t even begin to imagine what made them think that was appropriate, you can bet I’ll be having words with them.” Pentecost simply raised an eyebrow at him.

Throwing his hands up, Newt stomped back to his classroom. Hermann watched him go, feeling a strange sense of...something. Something was sitting in his chest and he didn’t entirely like it. It felt like when he was in middle school, and a classmate had left a note on his desk for Valentine’s day. He had read it to himself, then looked around the classroom to see who had left it. In the corner, behind some desks, was a group of kids, ogling him and very visibly trying not to laugh.

He felt bullied.

Why else would the students try to pull a prank on Geiszler by locking him in a closet with him? Why else would Geiszler get so angry at being locked in a closet with him for a few minutes? He had been practically red with rage.

He was an adult, he tried to remind himself. Bullying was a part of what high schoolers did. He didn’t have to have his feelings hurt, and he certainly didn’t have to resent Geiszler when he clearly had had no part in it.

He tried to remind himself.

He tried.

 

* * *

 

The third hint, in fact, came from Newton Geiszler himself, though neither was aware of it at the time, or at least Hermann wasn’t, and couldn’t imagine that Newton was.

Hermann had walked into the break room, where Newton was speaking with Raleigh about something that Hermann felt less than positive about.

“It just helps, dude, I don’t know what you want me to say. Of course it hurts and it’s just nice to have someone there, and Tendo was supposed to stay with me but his sitter canceled so now I’m flying solo.”

Hermann opened the refrigerator and pulled his bagged lunch out from the back of the middle row. He sat two tables over, studiously minding his own business.

Raleigh seemed to be giving him a hard time about whatever it was.

“You’ve done it alone before, haven’t you? What’s the big deal about doing it again? I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of it.” Newt whined at that.

“Because it’s a big piece and it’s going to take a couple of hours and I’m going to get _bored_ , Raleigh. You can’t talk to the tattoo artist while he’s working, he gets all grumpy. You can’t hear any music or the TV over the needle, and the last time I got a big piece done by myself I had to pay fifty bucks extra because I couldn’t stop bouncing my leg and Chau said he was charging me an inconvenience fee. Me! An inconvenience! Can you even imagine?”

Becket snorted into his sandwich. “I really can’t. Why don’t you just ask Gottlieb over there to go with you, then?”

Despite his valiant efforts to ignore the others and remain unnoticed, Hermann’s back stiffened at being pulled into the conversation.

He could hear Newton’s chair legs scraping on the floor as he turned around. “Hermann-!”

He groaned and began digging through his lunch bag, trying to remain indifferent in an effort to avoid further confrontation. “Absolutely not. You want me to babysit your tattoo session? I can think of many, many things that I’d rather be doing on any given evening than watching you get yet another ill-advised tattoo.”

Becket snorted into his sandwich but didn’t say anything. Newton desperately pulled out a chair at the table he was at and sat down, giving him what he could only describe as puppy eyes of the most offensive nature. Offensive because of, as he’d never admit out lout, how adorable they were. His hands folded into a plea.

“Please, dude, I’m desperate. I just need someone to go with me. It’s Friday night so you don’t even have to worry about, like, grading papers or whatever. Or you could bring papers to grade! I don’t care, just don’t make me go alone. I won’t even make you hold my hand.”

Hermann’s face went the lightest shade of pink. “Surely you have a friend that you could ask.”

Newton gave him an odd look. “That’s what I’m doing right now, dude.”

It took a moment for him to understand what the other meant, but when he did, he covered his face with his hand so that neither Geiszler nor Becket could see the new shade of pink, decisively darker, that was now taking over his cheeks. He hid it all with a disgruntled rumble.

“Fine! I’ll go with you. But I’m only going to stay an hour. Do you hear me, Geiszler? You’re getting _one_ hour.”

This didn’t seem to deter the other. Hermann finally lowered his hand and found Newton gaping at him, and Becket hiding a laugh through a mouthful of food- and not doing a good job of it. He scoffed.

“Or not. Maybe your friend Becket there would like to accompany you. I can’t imagine he’s-“

“No! Nope. No, you already agreed! I get one hour of a Friday night with the elusive Hermann Gottlieb. You heard it here first, isn’t that right, Becket?” Hermann tried to cut in- no, he did not “get one hour of a Friday night” with him, he was just accompanying him to a tattoo appointment. There was no need for him to pretend to make anything more out of it. But Becket spoke up first.

“Oh you’d better believe I heard it here first. And tough shot, Gottlieb, but I’ve already got plans for Friday night, so you’re stuck with the babysitting job this time.”

 Newton stood up from his table and headed back over. “I resent that!” They quickly returned to arguing, but Hermann was stuck staring at his suddenly pathetic and unappetizing looking lunch.

What had he gotten himself into?

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Friday night arrived quicker than he ever would have wanted it to. Against his better judgement, he had agreed to accepting Newton’s address and, somehow worse, his cell phone number, so that he could tell him when he was ready to come pick him up for his 7pm appointment. Why Newt insisted on him driving was beyond his consideration and, actually, something he didn’t want to think about too much. Newt had just said that he wouldn’t be able to drive, and Hermann had detested that fact and many of its implications so much that he had simply held up a hand and asserted that that was all the information that he needed, thank you very much.

So he had texted, and when he pulled up to the given address 15 minutes before the designated appointment time, Newt was already outside, locking his front door behind him and jogging up to Hermann’s car. He wore a wicked grin and the run could only be described as containing demonic excitement.

Hermann considered locking him out of the car.

Instead, Newton hopped in and buckled himself into the passenger seat. “You’re not gonna regret this, dude! In fact, you know what, I bet after tonight, you want one of your own.”

The complete and absolute disagreement to the very core of that statement carried them all the way to the tattoo studio, where Hermann parked and managed his way inside, Newt excitedly chattering his ear off about the movie-monster-inspired design that he was getting. Hermann didn’t know what a kaiju was, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to, by the sounds of it.

It was after Newt turned his excited chattering to the tattoo artist, and while Hermann was taking an inquisitive look around the small but well-kept space, that Newton started to undo the belt around his jeans.

Hermann’s mind panicked for half a second- he wasn’t sure if he should say something, or if this was just par for the course when someone got a tattoo, but another half a second later and that didn’t make sense, why would you have to take your pants off for a tattoo, _why in god’s name is he taking off his pants_.

Hermann let out a strangled sound. “Geiszler-! What in god’s name do you think you’re doing?”

As if the noise he made wasn’t embarrassing enough, the look that both Newton and the artist gave him was enough to tell him that he had just asked a very stupid question.

“Because I’m getting a tattoo on my leg? Sort of hard to do that when you’re wearing pants, don’t you think?” He finished unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and wiggled out of them, exposing a pair of boxer briefs in a nice, dark turquoise shade that were really rather lovely, truly he liked the color and liked even more that they were staying on.

There was a long chair that looked almost more like a table except for the folding marks in the middle and a strange spot for the head, a curved piece of plastic-covered foam or something, the cleaner of which he could smell from the other side of the shop. Newton laid on it face down, and Hermann was rewarded with the most inappropriately wonderful view of his co-worker’s ass that he had ever seen.

The night somehow managed to go downhill from there.

Despite the promise that he was made, Newt looked so pitiful just during the initial outlining, the needle driving into the back of his upper thigh, that Hermann took his hand and squeezed it, partly out of a deep and aching pity, partly out of some morbid curiosity to see what holding his hand would feel like. Sitting in a chair near Newton’s head, he wondered for half a moment if the motion was a welcome one, but that wonder was squashed when Newt immediately squeezed back with no noticeable hesitation.

They held hands through about 20 minutes of silence before the buzzing of the tattoo gun apparently became too much for Newton to handle. He lifted his head and rested his chin on his arm, giving Hermann a pleading look. “You gotta say something man, I’m begging you. I’m going nuts over here, talk to me, tell me about your day, tell me about anything because I am bored out of my mind and getting antsy and if Hannibal here- yeah, I said your name, you son of a- charges me another fifty bucks I’m going to have to find another tattoo studio and I really don’t want to do that because I don’t kn-“

“Did you know I have three siblings?”

This, gratefully, stopped Newton short. He gave Hermann a look that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“I had no idea. Tell me about them?”

Hermann had shrugged and looked down at their hands. He thought that they looked nice together like that.

“I have one older brother, one younger brother, and a younger sister. Dieterich lives in London right now with his wife Felda. We only see them during the holidays but Felda is…nice. A little wild, but nice. I think she’s good for my brother. He’s always been a little stuffy and-“

Newton interrupted him with a laugh. “You? You’re describing someone as stuffy? Pot, can I introduce you to kettle, cos I think you have a lot to talk about.”

Hermann gave him a scathing look, which, satisfying, quickly shut him up. “Bastien lives in New York City. We see him even less. He’s an artist, one of those types, and can barely afford his own rent, even though we’ve all tried telling him to get another job, to do something, _anything_ , to actually make an income, but he won’t listen. It’s frustrating, but I must admit that I hold some…admiration for him. He only has so many things in this world to worry about, and bullocks to the rest of us for trying to make him think otherwise. Karla lives with her wife in California. None of us have ever really let her grow up, even Bastien, even though he’s younger. She’s the only one of us that we all keep track of regularly. I don’t think I’ve gone a week since I moved out here where she wasn’t calling me just to talk.  It’s….nice. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

He was babbling, not really thinking about what he was saying, so what he said was no less than the truth. It was nothing particularly interesting, so far as he could tell, and nothing so unusual to what other mid-20s siblings all deal with as they grow up, he imagined.

But the look that Newton gave him- it reminded him of the look that he had when he had been spieling about the engineering class for the seniors. He looked raptured, paying complete and uninhibited attention to every word that he was saying, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Just like that time, too, Hermann ended up finishing by trailing off and looking away, suddenly insecure.

“My mom left us when I was four.”

Hermann looked up at Newton, startled by the revelation. Newton had his eyes fixed on their hands, and Hermann wasn’t sure if he should be self-conscious about it or not.

“My dad and my uncle took care of me while I was growing up. I was an only child- I _am_ an only child, and most of the time I’m totally fine with it, but it can get…lonely, sometimes. When I go home for the holidays, you know? I’ve got my dad, and my uncle, and his wife. Some cousins. We usually invite a few friends over the first night of Hanukkah. So it can be a packed house. But it still feels lonely, somehow. Not always, but sometimes. It feels like we aren’t a family so much as the most convenient assembly of people for that given day. Does that make sense? Like we could mix and match some of the people there, swap them out, and things wouldn’t change too much. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and I’m grateful for everything they’ve ever done for me, but I don’t feel like I grew up on equal terms with anyone. I didn’t know most of my cousins that well until my teens. My dad and my uncle…well, that’s who they are. My uncle met my aunt only a few years ago, I still feel like very holiday get together I’m getting to know her. I think having siblings would have been…nice. Having someone that you grew up with that you’re related to. I think it would be nice.”

As he was finishing, Chao was wiping down the bottom part of an outline that Hermann couldn’t even begin to make out.

Hermann felt a breach between them, like all of this information couldn’t be taken back, which it couldn’t, and that it was somehow going to change their dynamic, though he didn’t know how or to what degree.

Another promise was broken when Hermann stayed well past his initial agreement of an hour. In fact, it was close to midnight when Chao finally decided to finish, and Hermann, at that point, had been sitting for close to five hours. In exchange for his time, the back of Newton’s leg was completely done up with a finished tattoo, a monstrosity (literally) of blues and greens and black.

Chao wrapped an odd black bandage around Newt’s entire leg and it took no less than 5 whole minutes to coax him into sitting up, shifting most of his weight to his left leg, and then another 5 minutes to get him to stand. Hermann, unfortunately, had no pity for this segment of the process.

“Oh, do get over yourself, won’t you? What, do you need my cane? My deepest sympathies.” After the painful and excruciatingly long process of getting his pants back on, Newton hobbled his way over to the register, pulling out his wallet as Chao put his supplies away and pulled off his gloves to ring him up. The number, as it was read off to the both of them after Hannibal had added in a tip, was more than half of Hermann’s own bi-weekly paycheck, and if his eyes widened at the amount, he couldn’t imagine what he looked like as Newton handed over a credit card without a word.

The other shrugged and took his card as it was handed back to him. “What? I’ve been saving up for weeks for this piece, don’t you know that teachers make the big bucks?”

Getting him hobbled out to the car was a whole other process, and Herman was seriously considering offering him his cane by the time they got there. He could probably go faster without it at that point than Newton could. After all was said and done, he was no longer wondering why Newton had insisted on being accompanied to his appointment, and further, why he swore up and down that he couldn’t drive himself there.

“So what are you thinking, dude?” Hermann took his eyes off the road for half a second to give him a confused look. Newton gestured vaguely at his leg, the bandage just barely visible as a lump beneath the dark denim. “Your first tattoo. What are you thinking about getting? I’ll tell you, when I first got this job, I was super considering getting, like, the outline of a plant cell, or maybe a DNA strand. Something biology related, you know, to celebrate my first real job. I don’t know shit about math, but I bet there’s some formula floating around in that brain of yours somewhere that means something to you.”

The suggestion was so outlandish that it was bordering on pure stupidity, and he told him as much. “Are you absolutely off your rockers or is all that ink going straight to your head? There’s no way I’m getting a tattoo, what would give you the idea that I would ever want one?”

The pain seemed to be ebbing, or maybe he was just getting used to it at this point, because there was no way Newton would be grinning like that if he was still hurting, Hermann was sure. “What, you’re going to tell me that you just sat with me for a five-hour tattoo session and not once did you think that you wanted to get one for yourself? Trust me, you don’t have to start with a whole sleeve, or even half a sleeve. I could see you getting a tiny little something, maybe on your bicep. Come on, Herms, tell me there’s some string of numbers or something sufficiently nerdy that you wouldn’t mind having it permanently on your body.”

The nickname mixed with mention of his body had his head swimming, but he shook it off in favor of scoffing. There was no way he was giving the other any sort of indication of the sort of effect he had on him, even now after sitting in front of him in his underwear for five hours.

_Especially_ now after sitting in front of him in his underwear for five hours.

“I’m not going to dignify that remark with a response, because that would only encourage you.” Newton’s smile turned positively wicked at that.

It was well passed midnight by the time that they pulled up to Newton’s house. Hermann couldn’t remember the last time that he had been up this late, but he was sure it had entailed several pots of coffee and a grad paper that otherwise never would have been completed in time. He thought that maybe Newton would have decided that he had served his purpose already, but he insisted on Hermann helping him up to his front door, and after considering the state he was in and how long the walk from the tattoo studio out to the car, three parking spots down from the front door, had taken, he considered it not the worst idea ever. He grabbed his cane and walked over to the passenger side, where he offered his left arm and tried not to topple over as Newton took ample use of the offered limb.

“I mean really, who’s the one of us here with an actual walking impediment, and who’s the one who’s just being a big baby as a result of his own self-inflicted masochism?”

Newton let out a huff as he took one step, and then another. “So, like, regular masochism?”

Some two, never-ending minutes later, they stood at the front door to Newt’s house. He fumbled with his keys, and Hermann entertained the thought for half a second that Newt was regretting his decision if he couldn’t so much as focus on getting out his house key because his pain was so overbearing. Once the door was unlocked, Newton leaned on the handle heavily, freeing Hermann of his weight.

“Well…. I had fun.”

Hermann snorted. “Indeed. Who ever would have known that sitting and watching someone make a bad decision for several hours wouldn’t be totally regrettable.”

Newton was giving him an odd look. He couldn’t place it, but chalked it up to a mixture of exhaustion and soreness. He was leaning in towards him, biting his lip like he had something to say but didn’t know what it was going to be until he said it. With the porch light shining down on them both, Hermann noticed a new shade of blue in his eyes.

He really wanted to kiss him.

Instead, he cleared his throat and convinced himself that that was a very, very bad idea, and he needed to leave and go home before he did something that he would regret, that would make returning to work on Monday impossible and mortifying and achingly disappointing. Cheeks pink and warm, he took a step back. Newton bit his lip harder before pushing the door open a crack.

“Good night, Hermann.”

“Good night, Newton.”

Newt slipped inside and quietly shut the door. By the time Hermann climbed into his car and gave the house one last wistful look, the lights had all been shut off.

He called himself all sorts of unkind names on his long, quiet drive home.

 

* * *

 

The last hint was less of a hint and more of a well-deserved, albeit gentle, smack to the face.

He should have known that something was up when Newton came into his classroom during one of his free periods. He had been grading tests, eyes fixed to a particularly horrifying one where the student had used the wrong formula, and had, in fact, used that wrong formula incorrectly, but somehow came up with the right answer. He wasn’t really sure how to mark that one.

“Hermann Gottlieb, I would like for you to go out on a date with me.”

Hermann dropped his pen and let out a half-strangled noise as his eyes flashed up to Newton. “I beg your pardon?”

Newton sat down in one of his student’s chairs, right in front of his desk. “I’ve tried giving you gifts, but that’s my own fault for thinking that a well-hidden box of new chalk in your favorite hunting spot wouldn’t be a subtle clue. I thought maybe asking you to go with me to get a tattoo would be a cute date idea, but you know what, that one is entirely my fault, because I never actually said it was a date, but _shit_ dude, I also tried _kissing_ you when you dropped me off, I _really_ thought that at least that much was obvious. But apparently not. I don’t know how to be subtle any more, dude. I was really hurt that weekend, I really thought you had rejected me, but the more I thought about it, the more obvious it became that you didn’t even think we were on a date, and I don’t know if it’s because you aren’t interested in me or if you don’t date at work or _what_ , but I’m done trying to guess and be subtle. I would like to ask you out on a date, and you can say yes or you can say no, though obviously I really hope you’ll say yes, and I just need you to know that I am doing this _on purpose_ , because I really like you, and I would like for you to give me an honest answer knowing all the facts. Instead of, you know, what I’ve been doing for three damn years now.”

This was…a lot for him to take in.

He was sure he looked like a deer trapped in headlights, eyes wide and unable to move despite the evidence that he was about to- or rather, just had been- hit by a car. This stretched on for longer than he would have been comfortable with if he weren’t in such shock, and Newton began fidgeting in his seat.

“Like I said, you can say yes or you can say no, but I’d just really, really like for you to say _something_ , because you’re kind of freaking me out right now.”

Hermann picked his pen back up and squeezed it. “I would very much so like that, yes.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It turned out to be a date in the most classic sense of the word. Hermann finally caved and gave Newton his address, and he was picked up at his house one Friday evening for a movie then dinner at a hole in the wall diner that they both agreed actually had the best food in town. They started with a monster movie, at Newton’s insistence, and Hermann really didn’t particularly want to see anything that was playing that week anyway, so he didn’t mind. He liked sitting side by side with Newton, could feel a very soft warmth radiating from him during the movie, though they both appeared to be too cowardly to try holding hands during the 2 hours and 12 minute run time of the movie (which was enjoyable, at least, even if he didn’t totally understand the plot, though it felt longer when all he could think about for 132 minutes was how much he really wanted to be holding hands).

It was alright, though, because after their movie, they decided to walk the short few blocks to the diner, and Newton _did_ hold his hand for that part.

Newt’s hand was warm and soft and squeezed his just before he let go to open the door to the diner. They ordered their food, discussing the movie and its subtler plot lines and devices and their favorite movies and their families and friends and lives. Newt admitted that he’d been harboring a crush on him for the better part of three whole years, but never wanted to admit anything- what a disaster it would be, he admitted, embarrassed to the point of hiding his eyes behind his hand so he didn’t have to look at him, if Hermann had discovered that he cared a little too much for “friends” but not enough to share. Hermann eased his mind by one-upping him, admitting that he’d swooned for Newton on his first day and had been resenting that every day since for four years now, thinking the entire time that they were completely wrong for each other so there was no point in ever even trying to initiate anything.

What a fool.

Their talking carried them well past having their plates settled in front of them, well past finishing their food, well into the drive back to Hermann’s house to drop him off.

By the time they were pulling up, he had been discussing a paper on the Collatz conjecture for almost 20 minutes, the first 10 of which were spent explaining the conjecture and then why it was still unproven, something Newt struggled to understand until he compared it to evolutionary theory and the scientific method- technically, in theory, they strongly believed it was true, but the point wasn’t about believing it was true, but whether or not they could prove that it _wasn’t_.

Calling evolution a “theory” created an argument that they carried together all the way to his front door, that he didn’t mind having because he could argue with Newton for _days_ and never feel bored or under stimulated or insulted. They argued on equal grounds which was something that he had never found before.

(“Of _course_ I believe in evolution, you ridiculous man, the point is that it _is_ a theory because we haven’t yet proven it, that’s the _point_!”)

His motion-activated porch light flicked to life as they approached the door, and he had to dig around in his pockets for a moment before he could find his house keys. He didn’t unlock his door just yet, though, instead turning to lean against it, cane abandoned and hung up on the porch rail. Sighing, he turned to watch Newton’s face, hoping to find the same sense of disappointment that the night was coming to an end etched into his features that he was sure was so visible in his own.

He found Newton giving him that _look_. Biting his lip, looking up at him with those infuriatingly blue eyes, those eyes that had that look in them that he hadn’t been able to place the last time that he saw it. It was a look that so very clearly said _I want you to kiss me_ and Hermann cursed himself for giving up this opportunity the last time that it had presented itself.

He closed the distance between them with a quick tug to Newton’s jacket and pressed their lips together. There was no room for doubt in the kiss, Newt instantly wrapping his arms around his hips, hands resting at the small of his back, no room for doubt and no room for anything else between their bodies tightly holding each other close. It was soft and sweet and gentle and everything that Hermann would have wanted out of a kiss _weeks_ ago when he was too blind to take what they both needed. Their lips moved together, sometimes in synchrony, sometimes not, and it was absolutely perfect.

When he pulled away, Newton was rooted in his spot, swaying ever so slightly with his eyes closed. When he finally opened them, Hermann had a tender smile on his face. Newt gave him one back.

“Totally worth the wait for that.”

Hermann laughed and leaned in for one quicker, much less satisfying kiss. He fit his key in the lock and slipped halfway inside. “Good night, Newton. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

Newt leaned heavily against the doorframe, giving him what he could only describe as doe eyes.

“That you will, Mr. Gottlieb. You can expect me in your classroom first thing Monday morning. English breakfast tea, not coffee, right?”

Hermann looked him up and down but ultimately decided that he didn’t need to know how the other obtained that information. “That’s correct. You would almost get brownie points, as it were, for that if it weren’t so worrisome to imagine how you know that.”

Newt laughed and tapped his temple. “I have my ways.” He leaned in for one more kiss, a little more lingering than the last, pulled away slowly, then took a step back. “See you Monday.”

Hermann let out a hum and shut the door behind him.

 He was in so much trouble.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He was, in fact, in a lot more trouble than he thought he would be, and for more reasons than one.

Newton did meet him in his classroom Monday morning, with a steaming cup of tea that he could smell even before he walked into the room. He felt a warm tug in his chest at the sight of the other, but it was quickly squashed by the look on his face.

“What-“

“We’re in retcon 7, dude, this is not a drill.”

“What does that even-“

Ms. Mori came running in to the classroom, catching herself on the door frame to stop herself from sliding in her haste. “You!” She pointed a finger at Hermann. “And you-!” She swiveled the finger to Newton. “You are in so much sh-“

Katy Burgen, a junior student currently in one of Newton’s class, pushed her way in. “Ms. Mori I told you not to tell anyone!”

Hermann scraped his chair back and stood up. “Someone had better tell me what’s going on right this instant, otherwise you will vacate my classroom immediately.”

That quieted them down. Katy looked down at her feet and muttered under her breath.

“Do you have something you wish to share with me, Ms. Burgen?”

Katy watched her toe scuff the floor for a long moment before speaking up. “Jake Pentecost saw you two at the diner on Friday night,” she eventually admitted, in a quiet voice, and Hermann’s stomach dropped. He didn’t need to hear the rest of it.

“You two, out, now.” He pushed the two women out of his classroom and closed the door behind them. He didn’t even have to look to see if they were standing at the window, he simply pulled down the shade. He limped back over to his desk, using the wall and chalkboard as leverage before taking a heavy seat. He looked up at Newton. The other gave him a determined look back.

“So are we doing this thing for real or what?”

Hermann smiled the ghost of a smile, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m more than happy to give this a shot if you are.”

Newt pulled him up into a kiss that lasted all the way til his homeroom class was pounding on his door to be let in.

 

* * *

 

One year later, when their wedding invitation went out, they made sure each teacher and student got their own, so there were no more surprises.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! I've always loved reading song fics, especially when it's a song that I actually know and already love. This should be the beginning of an on-going series that I'll be working on alongside my other fic, a soulmates fic called "What Does Math Have To Do With Love?" The songs will probably all come from my Newmann playlist, which you can find on my profile!


End file.
